


Death by Train

by superpandagirl (zeerafuu)



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-03
Updated: 2011-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeerafuu/pseuds/superpandagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heechul had wanted people to look at something and instantly be reminded of him – how he lived, and how he died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death by Train

**Author's Note:**

> tw: attempted suicide

Heechul wanted to die without causing too much of a scene, but he didn’t want his death to be a private affair either. He wanted his parents’ skin to crawl when they see his body. He wanted people to mourn his death, to be dedicated at least a moment of their lives as they contemplated his death. He wanted people to look at something and instantly be reminded of him – how he lived, and how he died.

So he decided to die being hit by a train. He did, after all, live his life like a bullet train, speeding through life without anything to block its path, hardly ever stopping. But since he didn’t want to cause too much trouble with his death, he decided to die by the last train.

He arrived at a train station on the outskirts of Seoul about fifteen minutes before midnight, and sat on a bench at the platform, watching as trains and people went past him. He tried his best not to think about his life, but found it hard not to.

He thought about Sungmin, one of the few people he trusted, and how Heebum and Baengshin would get along with his cats, Sen and Hyaku. Other than his cats, Heechul had also left the guy half his wardrobe in his suicide note, including that pair of tacky neon pink skinny jeans that Sungmin had always wanted to borrow.

He thought about Zhou Mi, and how he would cry once he found out that Heechul had died. Heechul had always wanted to stop Zhou Mi from smiling, even if it was just for a minute, but had never succeeded. He would only succeed with his death. How ironic.

Zhou Mi would smile again when he sees that Heechul’s collection of bags was left to him, though.

He thought about Siwon, that straight, Jesus-loving bastard, whom Heechul somehow always had a soft spot for. Siwon would probably pray for him.

An announcement stating that the last train would arrive in five minutes dragged him back to reality. He checked his watch and found that it was nine minutes to one, and leaned back on the bench. He closed his eyes, thinking about his parents.

Those bloody bastards would probably be happy that he was dead. After all, it was them who had said that their son had died the day Heechul told them that he was gay, and then kicked him out of the house. Well, if it was a dead son they wanted, then a dead son they would get.

He thought about Sangwon, his first (and last) boyfriend, who had manipulated him, cheated on him and used him, and then thrown him aside when he realised that men were revolting, and that a woman was so much better.

Fuck all of them, Heechul thought as he fought back tears of anger, rejection and loneliness. He pushed himself off the bench with shaky hands, and made his way to the edge of the platform. His vision was completely blurred by tears as he stood on the edge of the yellow line. His knees were trembling slightly and he curled and uncurled his sweaty palms on his jeans.

He registered the train’s bright headlights as it neared the station from the corner of his eye, and told himself over and over again: jump jump jump jump jump jump jump. He felt his tears spilling over and a small whine catch in his throat as his knees bent, ready for a leap. He closed his eyes, letting a tear slide down his cheek, and jumped.

There was a ear-piercing horn, a loud, high-pitched scream and a crash, but Heechul felt no pain, except maybe on his right elbow. He didn’t dare to open his eyes, because he didn’t want to know how the afterlife looked like. Instead, he kept still, and let his tears flow freely.

It was only about five minutes later did Heechul realise that he had fallen backwards, not forwards, and that there was a pair of strong, warm, unfamiliar arms enveloping him, rocking him gently and singing a soothing song in a language he could not understand.

It was only then did Heechul truly realise the true value of life, and it was only then did he realise how big of a melodramatic fool he was to try and end it. A whole new set of tears flowed freely down his cheeks, and he turned to bury his face in the stranger’s neck, thankful for the gesture and a second chance in life.

-

Hankyung was running. He didn’t want to miss the last train and be stranded at some obscure part of Seoul. He wanted to blame Meixin for keeping him out till late but he had to admit that he had had a good time seeing his cousin again.

He reached the platform just when an announcement stating that the last train would arrive in five minutes echoed off the walls of the almost-empty station. He took a deep breath in order to steady his panting as well as his racing heart, and looked around at the platform.

Hankyung couldn’t believe his luck when he saw him sitting on a bench on the platform. He knew that the guy was the same guy who comes to the cafe Hankyung works at on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The guy who orders the same thing every time- a medium non-fat, half-caf, mocha frappe with whipped cream and extra chocolate syrup with a warm chocolate cake. The guy who sits at the corner and reads novels by Haruki Murakami. The guy who Hankyung thinks is absolutely gorgeous. Heechul, he had heard one of his friends call him. Kim Heechul.

He watched as Heechul leaned back on his bench, let out a drawn-out sigh and closed his eyes, seemingly lost in his thoughts. An almost pained expression crossed his face like a ghost, and Hankyung wondered what he was thinking about. He could tell that Heechul was troubled by something, and had to stop himself from going up to him and asking him why. 

He couldn’t stop himself from thinking that even when Heechul was brooding, he looked absolutely beautiful, especially in that loose white shirt, which was half-buttoned up rather carelessly, revealing a gray tank top underneath. Hankyung took in all of Heechul’s features- from his red hair that was dancing softly in the slight breeze, to the curve of his jaw and the pale column of his neck, as well as his rather tense arms and clenched fists and-

Suddenly, Heechul pushed himself off the bench with his hands, and shakily made his way to the platform, even when the train hadn’t arrived yet. That was when everything seemed to fit and the realisation hit Hankyung like a slap on his cheek.

No, he thought helplessly as he sprinted as fast as he could towards Heechul. The train was so close now, its headlights were almost blinding to Hankyung’s eyes, but he kept his focus on Heechul. Only Heechul, who had a tear sliding gracefully down his cheek, who was clenching and unclenching his fists since he was so scared, and Hankyung could tell because he had been there.

He lunged himself at the other man, just as Heechul was about to jump, and landed on his ass with Heechul safely in his arms.

For what seemed like a year, Heechul simply sat, deadly still, in Hankyung’s arms, his eyes closed and tears streaming silently down his cheeks. Hankyung began to sing him a song in Mandarin, a song about comfort and acceptance and respect and love, and rocked him slowly back and forth to calm him down.

Hankyung smiled when he felt Heechul shift and bury his face in his neck. He rested his chin on Heechul’s red hair and held him even tighter. He stopped singing, and hummed instead, and barely caught it when Heechul muttered a soft thank you into his chest.


End file.
